


Maybe, Just Maybe

by SmartassUndertheMountain



Series: Marvel OTPs [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 40s stucky, Angst and Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-War, Stucky - Freeform, moderate internalized homophobia, pre-Winter Soldier Bucky, preserum steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 15:15:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14083740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmartassUndertheMountain/pseuds/SmartassUndertheMountain
Summary: “Because I love you” requested by my wonderfully supportive friend who gave me the prompt and like six pairings to choose between.*My friend that I wrote this for verified all the tags before I posted this





	Maybe, Just Maybe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Peanutskywalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanutskywalker/gifts).



> Set before Captain America: The First Avenger. The beginning is definitely heavy, but I strove for a happy ending?

   Steve sometimes wondered if he was going crazy. It wouldn’t be too much of a surprise, really. If nothing else about him worked right, then why should his mind? If he was going to have a broken everything, then his brain shouldn’t be normal either.

   He was used to ‘not normal.’ That described him completely. Height, weight, eyesight, hearing, lungs, and pretty much everything else about his body. Socially wasn’t much different. Most things about him got him labelled like that from the start. Grew up in a single parent household: not normal. Never got a date: not normal. Couldn’t dance: not normal. Picked fights with people bigger than him: not normal.

   He hadn’t really known anything different, so it wasn’t a bother as a general rule, at least the day-to-day stuff. He wasn’t too focused on dating, women didn’t look at him anyway, which also made dancing pointless. After a certain age people don’t ask about about your childhood, so they can’t give you that sad look when you say your father died, and then the only looks you have to deal with are the confused stares at how small you are, and mothers whispering to their children “this is why you have to eat your vegetables.”

   What he really didn’t want to be ‘not normal’ was his friendship with Bucky. They grew up together, were always at each other’s apartments, always hung out after school. They were supposed to be best friends, just like any other pair of best friends.

   But sometimes it didn’t feel like that to Steve.

   Granted, he didn’t have many friends to base that off of: mostly neighbors who looked out for him and he did the same in return, or people who had been close with his mother, but as far as his own friends, there was Bucky.

   Bucky had stuck with him in the school yard and on the walk home when bullies would try to mess with him, and invited him hang out, and had sleepovers with him. They’d shared books, and comic books, and toys, and split lunch when one of them forgot it at home. Bucky was there for him when his mother died, when things were the hardest he’d thought they would ever get. In almost every memory, good or bad, Bucky was there with him.

   And now he wasn’t sure if that could continue. He remembered the conversation his mother had had with him when he was thirteen. About feelings, and urges, and that you should always respect the woman you’re with, and that you’re supposed to wait until after the wedding ceremony, and that whatever happened he had to take responsibility.

   She’d also told him about love, about that pull on your heart, and how it felt when she knew that his father was the one for her. And how love isn’t always easy, and sometimes it hurts, worse than anything else, but when it’s the right person, it’s worth it in the end.

   He hadn’t understood then. If love was so great, then how could it hurt?

   It had taken nearly a decade, but he thought he knew what she meant by the whole love hurts sometimes thing.

   It hurts to love someone you know you’re not supposed to. Sometimes people fall in love with someone who’s already married or something, and that stinks. But falling in love with someone that people would kill you for loving? That’s gut wrenching. It feels like Cupid has stuck one of his stupid arrows in your heart and is twisting it over and over.

   Steve was used to pain, the physical kind anyway. When you can never get a real lungful of air, and you have a tendency to get in over your head with back alley fights, pain is normal. The ache in his chest, the one that doesn’t have anything to do with his many medical conditions, won’t ever be normal to him.

At least he hoped not. He hoped that was is just a strange phase, or that he was going insane – it’d be easier if his head was wrong instead of his heart – or that maybe, just maybe, society and his mother’s church wouldn’t hate him for how he feels.

 

* * *

 

   Bucky stared at Steve. He tried not to, he really did, but it was so hard not to. Steve’s attention was focused on the end table by the couch as he leaned against the opposite armrest, sketching. He rolled his lips inward and chewed on them. He always did that when he sketched. It was cute.

   No. Not cute. Just a thing that happened, with no positive or negative connotations to it.

   Steve seemed oblivious to Bucky, who was supposed to be reading the paper. There was nothing interesting in it. Well, if he’d been alone it would have been interesting enough, but Steve was more interesting than the black and white that told him Europe was fighting and probably wouldn’t stop until the good ole’ U.S. joined in (just like last time, according to his uncle), there were want ads, but he and Steve both had jobs so what was the point of looking at them? There were ads for things to buy, but he didn’t know anyone with the spare money to buy anything and reading those would just be wasted energy.

   So instead, he looked at Steve: his skinny little shoulders hunched over his sketch book, head darting up to look at his subject every so often. He could tell that Steve didn’t like how it was going.

Lighting. That’s what he’d wanted to practice. He had angled the lamp so it hit the stack of books just so, and cast a long shadow. The glass of water reflected the light and made shadows that looked impossible to draw.

   He knew it wasn’t really right. Staring at your best friend and pining after them isn’t something that good people do. Good people confront their feelings and either do something about it, or get over it. He didn’t want to do either. He wanted to enjoy the fuzzy feeling he got in his chest when they fell asleep on the couch listening to a radio program, and the two minutes when he woke, where he could pretend that they ended up in each other’s arms intentionally, and not just because neither of them wanted to fall off the narrow couch.

 

* * *

 

   Something else Steve was used to was being stared at. He was very attuned to that prickly feeling you get on the back of your neck when you’re being watched, and he knew that Bucky’s eyes were on him.

   Usually, if Bucky was staring, it was because he’d gotten into a fight and was bruised really bad, or had a cold and looked like he was going to die. He was somewhat pleased to say he hadn’t gotten into a fight in nearly a month, and he was in as close to perfect health as he was going to get. That could only mean the staring was sympathetic, which wasn’t normal. He’d only gotten that look from Bucky when his mother had died.

   He wanted to ignore it, but the prickles travelled up his neck and across his shoulders and made it impossible to sketch, or think, or do anything other than obsess over the fact that he was being stared at with sympathy in his own apartment.

   “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

   Bucky was startled from his thoughts.

   “Nothin’.”

   Steve turned and looked at his friend. Assessed his friend, really. Bucky’s posture was defensive, angling himself away from Steve, cheeks slightly red from being caught. Guilty.

   “You sure about that?”

   There was an edge to Steve’s voice that Bucky recognized all too well, but he generally wasn’t on the receiving end of it. He couldn’t tell Steve the truth. It wasn’t… he wasn’t… Steve wouldn’t… It was time to deflect.

   “Why do you sound like you want to fight?”

   “Maybe I do.”

   “Sorry to disappoint, but I can’t let the ladies see me with a black eye. They don’t like it when their suitors keep getting into it behind the grocer’s.”

   “Whatever.” Steve turned back around and pretended to sketch again, but he was too upset.

   Bucky blinked rapidly as he processed what was happening. Steve was supposed to laugh and tell him the black eye would make him more attractive since he only got pity dates, or tell him that the only thing he was a suitor for was people with no standards so it wouldn’t matter anyway. He wasn’t supposed to get brushed off with a grumpy huff.

   He stood and crossed the room. He stood over Steve with his legs spread and his arms crossed: he was going to get answers

   “Alright, what’s your problem?”

   “I don’t have one.”

   “Now that’s a lie if I ever heard one. Both our mamas would be onto you if they heard you right now.”

   “Just let it go, alright?” Steve made a move to get up and leave the room, but Bucky caught his arm and spun him, not too gently, around so they were face-to-face. He didn’t fight it when Steve pulled his arm out of his grip.

   “No. Something’s wrong and I want to know what. Let me help you, Steve.” Bucky felt like he as begging, and he knew it wouldn’t work, but he had to try.

   “I don’t need your help, and I don’t want it.”

   Bucky could hear the venom in Steve’s voice and was taken aback. This wasn’t normal, and try as he might not to take it personally, he couldn’t help it. He let himself get a little angry. If Steve was going to get mean, then so could he.

   “Seriously, why are you acting like this?”

   “I’m not acting like anything.”

   “Really? ‘Cause you’re being a real jerk right now. We’re friends, Steve. We help each other. Are you really that thick and stubborn that you can’t let your best friend help you?”

   “I don’t need help!”

   “Clearly, you do!”

   “No. I don’t. Because whatever is going on is NOT something you can fix, alright? So, why don’t you just leave it alone, huh? Why don’t you just leave me alone?”

   “Because, I love you, damnit!”

   They were quiet for a moment. Steve was trying to convince himself that he actually heard that and his bad hearing wasn’t messing with him again. Bucky squeezed his shut and prayed that the floor would swallow him whole and he wouldn’t have to face anyone ever again, especially not the man in front of him.

   “Say that again?”

   Bucky didn’t respond, didn’t even crack an eye open.

   “Say it again, Buck.” Steve felt desperate, like he was begging for something that didn’t exist. He’d heard wrong, imagined it, and Bucky was too nice to correct him.

   Bucky was trying not to shake. He looked at Steve, whose shoulders were squared and his chin held up, like he did when he knew he was getting in over his head. It scared him. He knew Steve wouldn’t try to fight him, but that didn’t matter. He was terrified of what might come next.

   “Why? So that you can hate me more for repeating myself?”

   “You know I’ve got bad hearing, Buck.”

   “It ain’t that bad and we both know it.”

   “Maybe I just wanna hear it again.” Steve shrugged, his shoulders slumping just a tad. He wasn’t as confident at the moment, second guessing himself, but he forced himself to keep eye contact.

   What?

   He didn’t just…

   “You just wanna hear it again?”

   Steve didn’t say anything.

   “Why?”

   He thought for a moment. Bucky said it in the heat of an argument. And in arguments you either say things that you don’t mean at all, or that you mean with your whole heart. If Bucky hadn’t meant it, he wouldn’t look so scared, right? Which meant that if Bucky could say it, then he could.

   Couldn’t he?

   Deep breath in.

   “Because, I love you, too.”

   Bucky had no hearing problems, and no history of hallucinations, but he was starting to think maybe the doctors were wrong. Steve hadn’t… he couldn’t…no.

   “Steve, this ain’t a joke.”

   “I’m not laughing.”

   Bucky sighed. “No, you aren’t.”

   There were several beats of silence as they each tried to figure out what to say and where this entire thing could lead them, or leave them.

   “You mean love with a capital “L” right? ‘Cause when I said it, I definitely didn’t mean that you’re like my brother and I love you. I meant that I… I’m in love with you.” Bucky said, watching Steve carefully.

   “I know. Me, too. I … I tried not to, because… Because…” Steve’s breathing was getting faster as he started thinking too much.

   “I know.” Bucky stepped closer and put a hand on his shoulder. It worked. Steve’s breathing evened out with Bucky’s touch to ground him.

   “And I didn’t want you to end up hating me. If I can have your friendship, then that’s enough for me.” Steve tried to look him in the eyes when he said that, so he could show that he really meant it, but he found himself unable to.

   “You don’t just do stupid stuff, you are stupid. Do you really think I could ever hate you? You’re my best friend.” He smiled, small and nervous, but genuine.

   “You literally asked if I hated you a minute ago, hypocrite.”

   “Oh, can it.” Bucky chuckled half-heartedly and plopped down onto the couch. Steve followed.

   They sat for a moment, close, but not touching, each trying to figure out what to say or do. Steve hoped Bucky would talk first, he had always said the right thing, even when there was nothing right to say. Bucky was hoping Steve would talk first because he was courageous enough for the both of them even on a bad day. It still proved true.

   “So…”

   “Yeah.”

   “What, uh, what now?”

   “I guess you probably don’t want me to take you dancing, huh?”

   Steve smiled at him and nudged his shoulder. “I’m being serious. This isn’t- we can’t exactly-“

   “I know. But, I’m… I’m sorta hoping that the part of you that apparently wants to fight everyone also wants to, I don’t know, be with… me?”

   “I don’t want to make your life harder, Bucky. Unlike me, you can have a normal life.”

   “I don’t want a normal life if it means that you aren’t there. If you decide you don’t wanna do this-” he gestured between them “- then that’s fine, I’ll respect that. But you’re still my best friend and I’m still gunna want to hang out with you and there’s nothing that could ever change that.”

   “You would want to? With me?” Steve wasn’t sure why he asked that. If it was because of his issues, or his size, or his gender. They could all pose a problem.

   “Why wouldn’t I? You’re perfect.”

   Steve felt himself blushing and turned away when Bucky giggled.

   “You didn’t blush at all when we got that dirty book from the Westin’s garbage, but that makes you turn all red?”

   Steve flipped him off over his shoulder, still not turning around.

   “Alright,” Bucky threw up his hands in surrender, “alright, I’ll stop. And I won’t pressure you or anything. Think about it as long as you want, and whatever you decide, I’ll respect it.”

   Steve turned sharply when he felt the cushion next to him pouf up. Bucky was standing and gathering his jacket. Nope. He was not letting him leave with that uncertainty still hanging over them. Scared as he was, he needed answers, needed some idea of what was going to happen before they parted ways, even just for the night.

   “Wait. What if… what if we tried, but just so we knew? And… if we decide it’s right for us then we can… figure out what to do about everyone else later? The rest of ‘em don’t matter to me. I’ll never fit in anyway - don’t argue me there Bucky. But, it would be harder for you, it would make a noticeable difference for you, and I don’t want to cause that. But, I’m selfish, and I don’t want to not be with you.”

   Bucky shook his head.

   “You aren’t selfish. I want to be with you, too.”

   They smiled at each other, half the room separating them.

   “So I guess that means I shouldn’t crash at your place anymore? Someone might get the wrong idea that I’m taking advantage of you.” Bucky winked.

   Steve laughed so hard he shook. “Why do I put up with you?”

   “Because, you love me.” He tried to offer a cocky smirk, but saying it filled him with joy and he couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his entire face, especially when smiled back at him, and his eyes twinkled like that.

   “Yeah, yeah I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this was the first pairing I wanted to write with this prompt but it got super angsty and I didn't know how to finish it for a really long time so I wrote a Tony/Rhodey one (also in this series) that was supposed to be not angsty, and then ended up being a little angsty anyway.


End file.
